Rizzoli and Isles & The Prisoner of Azkaban
by scheese.and.quokkas
Summary: In which Gryffindor Jane Rizzoli and Ravenclaw Maura Isles meet at Hogwarts during their third year. Maura is a transfer student from Boston, in desperate need of a friend. Jane is her lovable, ever crass self, in dire need of someone to show her why her mother's attempts to fix her up with boys will forever be in vain. Eventual Rizzles, with a bit of fun along the way.
1. Chapter 1

Rizzoli and Isles and the Prisoner of Azkaban

'I feel sorry for Tommy,' Frankie sighed, taking a seat in the empty train compartment. 'He was awake all night cryin'.'

'Aw, Frankie, it ain't your fault,' Jane hurled the backpack containing the lunches Angela had made up into the luggage compartment.  
She took a seat opposite Frankie and propped her feet up next to him. 'Besides, it ain't so bad just yet. He's still got a couple of years before he's gotta go to that Muggle school. He'll be with Ma until then.'

'I suppose so,' Frankie agreed, not looking terribly convinced, and turning his attention to the crowd of family members gathered on the platform outside the train's window.

Jane followed his gaze, scanning through the sea of faces, some familiar, most unfamiliar. She suddenly made eye contact with her mother, who was clutching Tommy with one hand, waving frantically with the other, and sobbing as though she was never going to see her two eldest children ever again. Tommy looked sullen. Their father looked bored.  
'Aw, geez,' Jane rolled her eyes and plastered a fake smile on her face before waving back. 'Ma, you are so embarrassing,' she muttered through gritted teeth, breaking the eye contact and slumping down in her seat.

'You know she does this every year,' Frankie reminded her. 'I don't know why you're surprised.'

'I know, but we'll be back in a few months for Christmas. And then she'll do this all over again when we come back after the holidays. Ugghhh. Maybe I'll just stay at school.'

'What?' Frankie said, sounding panicked at the prospect of having to make the journey back alone. 'Jane, you can't! You'll break her heart, and she'll spend the holiday crying and going on about how ungrateful you are.'

'Yeah, yeah,' Jane remarked flippantly. 'It's nowhere near as bad for you, though, Frankie. She's always on my case! "_Janie! Have you met any nice boys yet? I saw Gabriel Dean meeting his parents at Kings Cross earlier, and he's looking to be quite a handsome young man."_ Bleurgh,' she mimed a violent vomit, getting Frankie to laugh. 'I don't think she understands that I've been going to school with the same boys for two years now, and I'm not liking them any better than I did when we first met. The only new people we get at Hogwarts are first years. And I am sure as hell not dating one of those!'

Just as Frankie was about to look offended at the remark aimed at his year group, their compartment door opened with purpose, revealing a familiar face.

'Frost!' Jane grinned, initiating a fist bump.

'Hey Jane, hey Frankie,' he greeted, his grin matching Jane's. He took a seat next to Frankie. 'Man, it's good to see you guys. I've been bored out of my mind this last month. No magic outside of school… who decided that was a good idea? Had to look for other ways to amuse myself.'

'Something tells me you succeeded?' Jane guessed, recognising a mischievous glint in her friend's eye.

'Yeah, I uh, may have discovered cars… Specifically how to make them go faster. By playing around with the engine.'

Frankie looked confused. Jane was quite in the dark herself. The Rizzoli family was pure blood, and could be traced back hundreds of years. They knew what a car looked like, of course, and usually had a family friend, Mr Gilberti, drive them into London when they had to catch the Hogwarts Express. But the concept of an engine was way beyond either of their comprehensions. Frost was a half blood, though his magical father had taken off years ago, and when he wasn't at Hogwarts, he lived very much a Muggle life with his mum.

He seemed to sense that he had lost them. 'It's what makes the car go. Sort of… never mind. Thing is, I kind of overdid it with the modifications…'

'What happened?' Frankie asked eagerly.

'I kind of…' he winced. 'Blew it up.'

'What?!' Jane asked, her tone a mixture of excitement and incredulousness. 'Like, there was an explosion? How big?'

'Not too big,' Frost said hurriedly. 'Like, nobody got hurt. Except the car. It was out of order for a while. And I've been grounded since the end of July. I've been going crazy with boredom. I bet you guys had a great summer?'

'Oh, it was alright,' Jane shrugged. 'Frankie here's been freaking out since I got home about where he'll be sorted.'

A swift kick was delivered to her leg. 'Ow! Frankie! _What, _Frankie, you have!' She redirected her attention to Frost. 'He's been following me around like a lost little niffler asking what happens if he gets sorted into Slytherin. What happens if he gets sorted into Hufflepuff.'

'Then you make friends and wear a green tie or a yellow tie,' Frost shrugged. 'Your sorting doesn't change who you are, Frankie. Just because you get sorted into Slytherin doesn't mean you're a bad guy. And Hufflepuffs don't cop it too much inside the castle, people just like to tease them out here. I don't know why, because all the Hufflepuffs I know are really good people. Besides, there aren't any rules about intermingling.'

'Exactly! See, Frankie, this is what I've been telling you all summer. Frost's a Ravenclaw, and I'm a Gryffindor, and we hang out all the time. I eat breakfast at the Ravenclaw table at least twice a week.'

'Yeah, I know,' Frankie sighed. 'I just want to be a Gryffindor, like you Jane. We've also been practicing Quidditch,' he told Frost, trying to redirect the conversation.

'Yeah, he's not a bad Keeper,' Jane said approvingly, deciding to cut him some slack and take the bait. 'We've been playing with Tommy and our friend Giovanni. I get to practice my Beating skills, and it distracts Tommy enough to stop him crying for a couple of hours.'

'He's taking it pretty bad, huh?'

'Ugh,' Jane held her head in her hands. 'There's the understatement of the century. He's been going through this infuriating cycle of getting really mad, and then crying, and getting really mad, and then crying.'

'He was awake all night crying,' Frankie nodded.

'And now he's angry again,' Jane tilted her head towards the window. 'Did you see him before you got on?'

'Not really. I saw your mum though. She's kinda…'

'Acting like we just died?' Jane supplied. 'Yeah. I think some of it is secretly her being upset about having to deal with Tommy on her own. I get the feeling it might be worse now that we've gone.'

'Pretty sad hand he got dealt,' Frost acknowledged. 'But your family's ancient. A squib was bound to turn up eventually.'

'We had one about three generations ago,' Frankie said. 'Great Uncle Sergio, I think?'

'Naw, he wasn't a squib. He was just as magical as you and I, but decided to live as a Muggle. I think he… Oh, what was it? Ella-cutioned himself? Frost, help me out here?'

'Electrocuted?'

'That's the one! He died from it, though Ma said he'd been disowned for quite a while by then.'

This brought on a lull in their conversation, and they all gazed out the window, watching the hustle and bustle of Platform 93/4. Jane loved this time of year; she felt like she was finally back in her element. Seeing heavy trunks with Hogwarts crests stamped proudly on the lids being loaded into the train, owls in cages, broomsticks, cauldrons, armfuls of textbooks. Cheerful farewells, tearful farewells. The wizarding families who had poorly tried to disguise themselves as Muggles for their navigation of King's Cross. The over-eager first years who arrived on the platform wearing their robes. The anxious parents, the younger siblings left behind. The seventh years, who all seemed to have this air of wisdom and nostalgia about them, determined to make the most of their final year at this second home disguised as a boarding school.

Jane glanced up at the big clock on the platform. Ten minutes until they departed. She looked at Frankie, who was staring at their parents a little anxiously. She remembered her first time on the Hogwarts Express, which she'd had to make without the help of an older sibling. That was where she'd met Frost. He and his Muggle mother had had quite a job of getting onto the platform itself, before Frost could even start to worry about making the journey to Hogwarts on his own. Mrs Frost had been beside herself at the prospect of having to send her only baby off to a place she had barely heard of, and never been to, all because a letter delivered by an owl (in broad daylight) had said her son was magical. She hadn't even known his father was magical until after Frost's conception. But Jane had found him sitting in an empty compartment, found out he knew almost nothing about the magical world, and spent the entire journey bringing him up to speed on everything she knew about Hogwarts. She had been fascinated by a smartphone he had with him, but as they got closer and closer to the castle, it had started to malfunction, then there was a small pop, a hiss, and the screen went black.

'_Damn. I read somewhere that dense magic will fry electronics,' Frost had said, looking more than a little miffed._

'_Least you know the book's reliable,' Jane had said, biting her lip to stifle a laugh._

_He was silent for several seconds before letting out a short chuckle. 'Yeah, I guess you're right. You're alright, Jane Rizzoli.'_

They'd been friends ever since.

A sharp whistle pierced the silence, bringing her out of her reverie. The whistle signalled the final boarding call, and there was a flurry of last minute hugs as students hurried to get on the train. The looks on the faces of some of the parents on the platform was almost comical, as they waved goodbye to their children. Jane caught a final glimpse of her own family as the wheels started to turn beneath them. Her mother was crying. Again. Tommy was crying. Again. Her father had already turned to head back to the car, probably embarrassed by his present company. Jane felt a sudden wave of independence sweep over her. Yes, she was definitely glad to be going back to school.

* * *

In another part of the train, Maura Isles sat alone in a compartment, reading _Hogwarts: A History _for the second time that summer. She was not alone by choice, simply she had been one of the first people on the train, and nobody had joined her. From the corner of her eye she had seen a few people stop briefly to look in, but apparently she did not appear a good travelling companion. The door to her compartment had stayed closed, and so she had remained lost in the world of Hogwarts, a place she had yet to see in person.

It didn't happen very often, but Maura was a transfer student, entering Hogwarts at third year. Her aloof parents had recently decided to relocate to England from Boston. Her mother was an artist, her father a Healer. After her mother claimed the inspiration she had once drawn from Massachusetts had dried up, her father had applied for, and been offered, a high ranking position at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, on the Potions and Plant Poisoning ward. He had accepted, and the Isles had made the move to London during Maura's summer break.

Maura was not upset about leaving America. She hadn't had any friends at the Fort Acton Academy of Magic. She had had Ian when she was younger; a Muggle boy who lived down the street. Constance Isles seemed to draw a lot of inspiration from the "labour-filled" life the Muggles struggled with each day, and liked to live close to them for the sake of her art. Maura had excelled at Muggle Studies at Fort Acton, and could assimilate very neatly into Muggle society when the occasion called for it. She and Ian had spent many a day down by the creek, watching mother ducks teach their babies to swim, watching the incredible metamorphosis of tadpoles to frogs, watching the water weed ripple in the gentle current. Ian loved the natural world just as much as Maura did, and didn't even think to tease her about all the times he found her at the creek peering at some tiny insect or rock through the magnifying glass he had loaned her. She had very fond memories of jumping on Ian's trampoline in the summer, and watching cartoons in Ian's living room with hot chocolate in the winter. Ian's family had been very big on the outdoors, and they had invited Maura several times to come on four or five day long tramps with them. They had roasted marshmallows around a campfire each night, and Ian's dad had pointed out the constellations to her. She had squashed up in a tiny tent with Ian and his sister each night. She usually didn't like being touched; her family wasn't very affectionate, and she often felt uncomfortable when she was in such close proximity to other people. But she had smiled, being swaddled by sleeping bags and pillows and two warm bodies in that tent. They liked her, they had asked her to come especially. They had laughed at her jokes and listened to her stories. It was one of those rare times in her life when she really felt wanted.

But then a tawny owl had delivered her letter at ten o'clock in the morning, interrupting her weekend yoga routine. _Dear Miss Isles, _it read. _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Fort Acton Academy of Magic… _  
She intended to go, of course. But bound by the International Statute of Secrecy, she couldn't tell Ian what was happening. She could still remember Ian's crestfallen face when she told him she was going to be attending a private boarding school for her secondary education. She couldn't tell him where it was, she couldn't tell him what it was called. She couldn't tell him why. She was incapable of lying to him, lest she go vasovagal. He interpreted her lack of sharing as her wanting to break their friendship, and they spent less and less time together as that summer wore on. It was only made worse when she returned home for Christmas, and could give him even less answers than before. They hadn't spoken much after that, and Maura missed him often.

Fort Acton was concealed in the middle of an arboretum, just outside of Boston. It was quite literally an enormous fort, and accommodated most of the magical students from the East Coast. It was gorgeous in the autumn, and the golden browns, rusty oranges, bright yellows and fiery reds of the falling leaves served as a backdrop for her favourite memories of her solitary school days there. She had been happy enough at the Fort, though she hadn't expected her peers to be as cruel as they were. "Maura, the Bore-a!" was a common taunt in her daily school life, though she didn't understand them. The world around them was fascinating, and they were confined to a single location for most of the year. The best way to learn was by reading, which she did frequently. Books served her thirst for knowledge, and well as provided her with an escape. She had done a little reading about England, and the history she had learned enthralled her. She had been very eager to shed her forest green Fort Acton school robes and trade them for the custom black Hogwarts ones.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She put down her book to look at the scenery flashing past the window, and sighed. What would it be like in person? Maura had hoped that her involuntary social reclusion might have come to an end with this new start. But, judging by her silent compartment, this was not the case. She retrieved a worn piece of parchment from her satchel and skimmed back over the part she was most anxious about. _Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl, or a cat, or a toad. _Nothing about African spurred tortoises.

Bass, still quite small for his species, was safely stowed away somewhere on the train in his crate. Maura had been sure to supply him with plenty of British strawberries, which were much easier to find now that she didn't need to import them. She was worried that she might be ordered to send him home once she arrived at Hogwarts, seeing as he was not a preapproved pet. She hated to so blatantly break rules like this, but she knew her parents wouldn't take care of him. Her father would be busy at the hospital, her mother would get into one of her "zones" and elude reality for up to a week at a time while she got whatever creativity was brewing in her mind onto paper. Maura was convinced she'd come home to nothing but an empty shell after poor Bass had withered away from starvation.

The door of her compartment was suddenly heard to be opening, and she looked over in eager anticipation of company. But instead, there was just the kind face of an older woman, pushing along, it seemed, a food cart.

'Anything off the trolley, dear?' she smiled.

'No, thank- Oh! Actually, if you have any organic vegetables, I'd like very much to purchase some,' Maura said, thinking of Bass.

The lady chuckled. 'Sorry, dear. It's pumpkin pastilles or chocolate frogs. There's a few boxes of Bertie's left. And your acid pops and fizzing whizzbees, of course.'

'No thank you,' Maura said politely. 'I'm hoping there might be pistachios at the feast later. I'd like to increase my intake of Vitamin B6 in order to combat stress until I get settled in at Hogwarts.'

The trolley witch merely nodded and continued down the corridor.

Maura sat back in her seat, and all of a sudden, felt the urge to cry. Nobody wanted to be around her. Not even her parents had come with her to the station. Her father was already engrossed in his job, and her mother, having already filled a book with new artistic concepts, had cited that she didn't have any more of a clue of how to get onto the platform than Maura did as the reason for her absence. She had arranged for a chauffeur to get Maura safely to the train station and through the barrier. The chauffeur had made sure Maura's luggage made it on the train, and then he was gone. The trolley witch was the first person who had spoken to Maura since.

She let a single tear roll down her cheek, before steeling herself and wiping it away. She shouldn't be surprised. She should have expected this all along. Hogwarts wasn't going to be any different. She needed to put her head down and study, and not worry about such trivial things as being liked by her peers. She quashed the thought that being well liked and having friends weren't the same thing, but as she closed the blinds in her compartment under the guise of changing into her robes, a quote from one of her favourite authors crossed her mind. CS Lewis was a wizard who had written a series of books for an audience of Muggle children, hinting at how close by true magic really was to them. _"Friendship is unnecessary" _the quote went_, "like philosophy, like art. It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things that give value to survival."_

Maura glanced at her watch, a gift from her parents for her thirteenth, and most recent, birthday. They still had at least five hours' travelling to do. Her bottom lip trembled as she knotted her necktie in a half-Windsor. There was nothing she could do but wait.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:** Thanks very much to the colossal three of you who've shown interest in this story! This is the first fic I've published, and receiving my sole review to date was very exciting! I thought we might have a bit of fun... If you leave a review, tell me your Hogwarts house, and I'll give you five points. I'll tally them up and see who comes out on top at the time I put up the next chapter.

* * *

Slowly, the Hogwarts Express pulled to a halt, stopping with a short screech and a loud hiss of steam at Hogsmeade Station. Dusk was just starting to settle in, and Jane pressed her face to the window to look up at the castle in the distance.  
'There's Hogwarts, Frankie,' she pointed. 'What do you think?'

Frankie all but leapt onto Jane's side of the compartment in excitement. There was the castle he had seen so many times on paper, taken straight from the page and made enormous before his eyes. Hogwarts was brightly lit against its ever-darkening backdrop, ready and waiting for students to fill its walls once again.  
'Awesome,' he grinned.

Jane shouldered the backpack that was now devoid of sandwiches, having been replaced with close to twenty chocolate frog wrappers that Frost had bought for them off the trolley. They'd found Frost two new cards for his collection: Gringott and Babayaga, so he was pleased.

The train doors opened, and the trio joined the bottleneck of students in the corridor. 'Know where you're going Frankie?' Frost asked.

He shook his head, suddenly looking like a small woodland creature caught in the headlights. 'I don't get to go with you guys?'

'Naw, they take the new students across the Black Lake as a welcome thing,' Jane explained. 'You need to find the Keeper of Keys and Grounds. He's a big old guy, half giant. He'll be calling for ya.'

'Hard to miss,' Frost grinned.

'You'll be fine, Frankie!' Jane said, as they stepped out onto the platform. 'I'll see you at the Sorting!'

She and Frost went off in search of a carriage, greeting friends as they did so, and Frankie was left alone on the platform in the growing darkness. 'Great,' he muttered, using sarcasm to try and ward off an impending panic attack. He almost wished he had made friends with some other first years on the train, instead of sitting with his sister and her friend. But then he remembered all the chocolate frogs and deduced he had made the right decision.

He started walking up the platform, in the opposite direction to his sister, trying to find some other kids wearing robes that didn't have a coloured lining. But then he heard the call, just as Jane had said he would.

'Firs' years, over 'ere!' an enormous voice boomed, the source of which was buried somewhere in the train steam. 'Firs' years, this way!' Frankie followed the voice, and soon found a number of students clustered around, what surely must have been, a half giant. He was waving a big, bright lantern from side to side over his head, still calling for the lost first years. His big bushy beard was streaked with grey, and matching shaggy hair reached his shoulder blades. He wore the biggest coat Frankie had ever seen, and from it came a fairly strong scent that Frankie didn't recognise. He breathed in deeply through his nose, with his eyebrows knitted together, trying to locate the smell in his memory. The half giant addressed him before he even realised he'd been noticed.

'Tha's hippogriff,' the man informed him, before thoughtfully sniffing his coat's collar. 'An' maybe a little bit o' bowtruckle. Come down ter my hut sometime and I'll show yer. Right, you lot,' the man addressed the group he towered over. 'I'm going to go an' check fer any stragglers. You stay 'ere fer a minute, and get inter groups o' no more'n four. We'll be going in the boats in a little bit.'

Frankie looked around at the other students as the giant disappeared. They all wore plain black robes, and black ties emblazoned with a Hogwarts crest. Some looked scared, but most looked excited.

'We're going across the Black Lake!' one girl whispered excitedly.

'Isn't there a giant squid?' asked another.

'Yes, and Merpeople!' a third added.

'There aren't Merpeople in the Lake!'

'Yes, there are! My Dad told me. He can speak a bit of Mermish.'

And so it went on. There was plenty of speculation amongst the group of first years. Most of them had heard tales from older siblings, and parents about Hogwarts. But nobody could be sure of what was truth, and what was trickery; who was pulling their leg, and what were features of yesteryear. Jane hadn't mentioned anything about Merpeople, Frankie thought. But then, the Black Lake didn't sound like a very inviting swimming spot. Maybe she didn't know about the Merpeople either.

She _had_ said during the summer that there was such a big desire amongst first years to make Gryffindor that Hogwarts had introduced a troll fighting competition, so the youngsters could prove their bravery and make it easier for the Sorting Hat. Frankie was mostly sure that wasn't true. He looked up at the glittering lights of Hogwarts in the distance, and wondered about the feasibility of there really being a troll waiting there somewhere to test his courage. Maybe the troll was in the Black Lake, waiting to ambush them in the darkness. But, wait, were trolls any good at swimming?

'Excuse me,' a feminine, accented voice came at him from somewhere nearby.

'Me?' Frankie pointed at himself, having located its source.

'Yes,' came the reply, and with it approached one of the most attractive girls Frankie had ever seen. 'I just wanted to let you know that your tie is on back to front, in case you weren't aware.'

'My tie?' Frankie looked down at his chest, and found that his tie was indeed on backwards; the Hogwarts crest was pressed against his belly. He was suddenly very grateful for the darkness around them as a deep blush washed over his cheeks. He made eye contact with the girl in front of him for a split second and gave a sheepish grin, before his hands leapt to fumble with the knot.

'Are you embarrassed?' the girl asked, genuinely curious, having noticed his shaking hands. 'There's no need to be. I don't imagine you've had much occasion to don a tie before this?'

Frankie shook his head quickly in agreement, still struggling to free his tie.

'Would you like some assistance?' the girl asked.

Frankie's hands stilled, and he looked her in the eye. She wasn't mocking him. She seemed nice. 'Yeah, thanks,' he smiled.

'What's your name?' she asked, feeding his tie back out of the knot with ease.

'I'm Frankie,' he said, getting a good look at her for the first time while her gaze was not upon him. Frankie had not been around many girls before. In fact, now that he thought about it, his sister was probably the only girl close to his age that he had spent any significant amount of time alone with. But Jane was so much of a tomboy he wasn't sure she really counted as a girl. His lack of female company didn't prevent him from realising that this girl was beautiful, though. She had golden brown hair that was presently done up in a complicated-looking French plait, and her cheeks and the bridge of her nose were dusted with freckles. He couldn't make out the colour of her eyes in the dark, but they were bright, and friendly. 'Frankie Rizzoli.'

'I'm Maura Isles,' she said, pulling his tie free and offering it back to him. 'It's nice to meet you, Frankie.'

'Yeah, you too,' he agreed, taking the tie and giving her a lopsided grin. 'What's that accent? You American?'

'I've spent the last six years in America, yes, and my father grew up there, but I wouldn't call myself American. My mother's English, and most of my early childhood was spent in Serbia before we moved to Boston. My accent is better described as European-American, I would say.'

'Wow,' was all Frankie could say. 'That's… wow. I've lived in the same house all my life, and we've only left the country twice.'

'Well that's nothing to be dismayed about!' Maura assured him. 'You've plenty of time to travel, and I think it must be comforting to have such firm roots. Packing things into trunks isn't nearly as desirable an activity as people seem to think it is.'

Frankie paused, Maura's way of speaking throwing him off a little. Was she showing off, or was this how everybody spoke in America? He was inclined to believe the latter, since Maura didn't seem in any way conceited. 'Yeah, maybe,' he gave a shrug and a smile.

Maura's eyes darted away for a few seconds, as she seemed to recognise she had made him a little uncomfortable. 'Are you going to put that back on?' she asked, changing the subject, pointing at the tie.

'Oh,' Frankie looped the tie around his neck. 'Yeah. So, Maura. What d'you reckon? Are there Merpeople in the Lake?'

'Merpeople? Certainly! There have been Merpeople inhabiting the Black Lake since the tenth century. The colony here are Selkies, and they're very closely related to the Irish Merrows. Currently, their leader is Merchieftainess Murcus. They're incredibly intelligent beasts.'

Frankie gaped as this information fell as easily as rain from Maura's lips, but he recovered quickly. 'Beasts?' he joked. 'Not people?'

'Oh, no,' Maura shook her head seriously. 'They wanted being status sometime in either, it's an ongoing debate, the fourteenth or seventeenth century, but the Chieftainess of the Wizards' Council, Elfrida Clagg, denied them. They achieved being status in 1811, under the new Minister for Magic, Grogan Stump. But when they later found out that hags and vampires and other Dark creatures were also claiming being status, they requested to be treated as beasts once more.'

'I… how on Earth do you know all that?'

'I read it, in Newt Scamander's book, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_. Do you like to read, Frankie?' she asked hopefully.

'I, uh, well… sometimes, sure. Look, that giant's coming back. D'you wanna share a boat with me?'

'_Half_ giant. His name is Rubeus Hagrid. And yes, I'd like that very much.'

* * *

The Black Lake was choppier than Maura had expected. The sky was now pitch black, and if it weren't for the lantern at the front of their boat, she wouldn't have been able to see her own hand in front of her face. The black Hogwarts robes made it very hard to distinguish the other students in their boats against the darkness, and so at first glance it appeared that there was a large group of lanterns hovering independently above the water. As they steadily crossed the half mile to the castle, the south side of Hogwarts loomed closer and closer, proving to be twice as big as Maura had dared to imagine.

Maura's kitten heels had not made it easy to navigate the boat, but she had managed, and now she and Frankie were sitting at the front on a broad wooden plank. Maura had her robes wrapped tightly around her; the September air on the Lake was unusually chill. Frankie, for his part, had rolled up his sleeve to skim the water with his hand, wanting to be ready to act if he felt something resembling a troll close to the surface. They were joined in their boat by a pair of girls, who had briefly introduced themselves as Mandy and Chloe, before turning their heads and whispering and erupting into giggles about some boy on the train.

Hagrid sat alone in a boat that was in danger of falling below the water line from his weight, heading the procession to the castle. The boats moved entirely of their own accord, and Maura found herself gazing up at the sky, looking for the constellations Ian's father had showed her. There was her favourite: Orion. It was comforting, almost, to know that some of the stars here were the same ones her finger had pointed out some years previous in another part of the world.

Still, despite this realisation, she was a bit anxious. From her readings, she had surmised that she would probably be sorted into Ravenclaw, though she felt uncomfortable making use of such conjecture. She was worried about making friends. Frankie had been very jovial towards her, but he was a first year. It wasn't that she felt he was below her, but rather, she wanted friends her own age, who she could attend classes with, and have intellectual debates with. She had spent more than enough hours sitting in a solitary corner in the Potions room at Acton, powdering her bicorn horn while other students laughed with their partners and gasped in delight as the contents of their cauldrons changed colour and gave off new scents.

She felt a little out of place amongst all these first years. But a note had arrived alongside her Hogwarts letter and school supply list, instructing her to accompany the first years, in order to take part in the Hogwarts welcome ceremonials and be Sorted. Perhaps it was a good thing. They were, she supposed, not only figuratively, but also at this moment, literally, in the same boat.

A gentle bump jolted her out of her musings, and she realised with a start that they had reached the opposite bank already. Three or four boatloads of students were already gathered on solid ground, and Hagrid stood on a wooden platform helping students up. Their boat reversed as close to Hagrid as possible, and he helped Mandy and Chloe step out. Frankie went next, and finally Maura accepted his enormous hand to help her up onto the small quay.

She turned and looked back at the way they had come. The boats were now very clustered together in the water, and the combined lantern light made it possible to see the faces of their occupants. Most contained wide eyes, and open mouths, the earlier excitement having been replaced by apprehension. It was mostly quiet; the realisation that there were no more events separating them from the Sorting had dawned upon them all, and most were lost in contemplation. The rumbling in their bellies, though, and the promise of food at the Welcome Feast was enough to convince the vast majority of their party that forwards was the best option, and they shuffled their feet impatiently, waiting for their peers to join them on land.

At last, all feet were firmly on the ground, and the wooden planks of the quay creaked in protest under Hagrid's weight.

'Tha's everyone?' he asked, receiving no reply. 'Right, foller me. We're jus' goin' round tha' turret there.'

The group followed a pebble path that led to, and then hugged, the castle. Had there been better light, they'd have been close enough for Maura to admire the immaculate stonework of the castle's outer walls. It had been standing at least ten times as long as any of its founders, and showed no signs of wear. Hundreds of thousands of young witches and wizards had been educated within these walls, and on these grounds. The magical community, at least of Britain, essentially owed the continued smooth running of their entire existence to Hogwarts. Without such thorough education, the framework of their world would surely crumble. The days before formal magical education had been somewhat disastrous, and it was the construction of this very building that had solved a hundred problems for the wizarding world.

Maura struggled to comprehend the sheer difficulty the Hogwarts founders must have endured to create it. Like the Muggle world's technology, magic had also advanced through the ages. Two men and two women from the tenth century constructing something so large as a castle was no easy feat, and Maura was in awe of the history that surrounded her.

The path took them round a sharp corner, and from an open door in the far wall, warm, inviting-looking light spilled out into the evening.

'On ya go,' Hagrid stood to the side and ushered them on. 'Through tha' door. I've got ter tend ter the boats.'

The group continued, more silent than ever, the crunch of pebbles underfoot cutting sharply into the air. The glow from inside the castle came from lit torches spaced periodically along each wall, and the crunching of the pebbles slowly gave way to the dull thud of feet on flagstones as the first years filed inside.

Pupils suddenly flooded with light, Maura squinted as she looked around her. They were in a medium-sized passage, very clean, that turned into a short flight of stairs. A suit of armour stood to one side, and as she climbed the stairs with the other students, she found the walls adorned with artwork.

'Wendelin!' a woman in a picture, dressed as though she was from the fourteenth century tapped the arm of a woman beside her. 'New students!'

'Oh, yes,' the witch looked over the top of her spectacles. 'Welcome to Hogwarts!'

'Lovely hair, dear,' another woman commented as Maura passed by.

Frankie was walking just up ahead, past a long painting of a group of men smoking pipes and cigars that gave off a whispy yellow smoke.

'Watch out for Slytherin, lad,' a man wearing a top hat warned him. 'Lot of bad blood in Slytherin.'

'Mmm, indeed!' remarked another, removing his pipe from his mouth. 'You be sure to tell the Hat you don't want Slytherin. You will tell it, won't you m'boy?'

'Ignore them, love,' another picture, housing a young mother with her baby, told Frankie. 'Ambition's not a bad thing. And green would look wonderful on you.'

Frankie drifted quickly to the centre of the passage in an effort to ward off any further advice from the portraits.

The passage soon turned a corner, and they climbed two more flights of stairs before meeting a witch on the final landing. She was plump, with rich brown hair and cat eye glasses. She wore a pointed hat and a midnight blue robe, and looked quite friendly, Maura thought. She stood there patiently until all the first years were gathered on the landing or the stairs.

'Hello!' she smiled. 'My name is Professor Clark. Through these doors is the main atrium of the castle, and presently we will go through there and to the Great Hall so you may be Sorted. There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. While you are here your house will be like your family. Your name will be called, you will sit on a stool, and the Sorting Hat will be placed on your head. It will call out your new house, and you may then join the appropriate table. Your house prefects will orientate you to your common room later in the evening. Are there any questions? No? Then follow me, please.'

Anxious glances were exchanged, now that the prelude to the main event had reached its close. The towering oak doors of the Great Hall had been opened in full, and Maura joined the line of first years filing inside to meet the interested gazes of close to a thousand pairs of eyes. The events of the next half hour might very well determine if she would manage to make a friend, or spend the following day locating nooks and crannies of the castle that she could hide herself away in. She steadfastly forced her eyes to the front of the Hall, and tried to appear as outwardly calm as possible. It was just the Sorting. It was a good thing; it meant she would be more likely to find people who thought like her. It was simply improving her odds that she might find a person to share in the experience of high school with.

Right?

* * *

**A/N:** I know this chapter was a bit of a filler, but I'm having way too much fun geeking out over the magical world to be sorry. Thanks for reading, happy Friday!


	3. Chapter 3

'Oh for the love of Merlin,' Jane moaned, a look of utter pain on her face. 'Where _are_ they? I'm starving!'

'Don't worry, Roly Poly Rizzoli,' a boy three places to Jane's right called down the table. 'I'm sure they'll be here soon.'

'Shut it, Joey,' Jane growled menacingly.

They had been seated for at least fifteen minutes. There was no sign of the first years, and the empty golden plates and goblets spaced along the long oak table remained depressingly bare, taunting Jane further. Jane crossed her arms defiantly over her stomach as it gave an enormous growl. She could have sworn they were more than half way through the Sorting by this time last year. Maybe some idiot had fallen in the Lake. Jane groaned internally. It better not have been Frankie.

The Great Hall was a loud buzz of chatter, everybody catching up on each other's summer holidays. It had been chilly out in the evening, but a thousand bodies packed in such close proximity had heated the large room quickly, and Jane was regretting choosing her jumper over her V-neck vest. She silently cursed the robes-on rule for formal occasions. It wasn't a problem in winter, but _summer_? Ridiculous.

Her hand brushed against the outline of her wand as she rolled up her sleeves. It was tucked safely away in the long, narrow silk pocket sewn into the lining of her robe, and her hand twitched on instinct, wanting very much to blast a hex at Joseph Grant. She hadn't been allowed to use magic all holidays, and the practice would do her good.

As if on cue, Joey's irritating voice came bounding down the table once more. 'So, Rizzoli. What'd you do for the holidays?'

'I sat around thinking about the cannoli I should be eating right now,' Jane barked back sarcastically.

'Roly Poly Rizzoli loves cannoli!' Joey exclaimed gleefully. 'Oh, too good!'

Jane actually had her hand on her wand at this point, torn between wanting the satisfaction of making boils erupt out of Joey's face, and wanting to avoid getting detention on her first day back. She knew that if she were to be hauled off and yelled at now, she'd probably miss Frankie's Sorting. He'd be upset, Ma would send a Howler, AND she'd probably just be creating another obstacle between her and the cannoli. So, with the face of a Horntail, she released her wand and balled both her hands into fists. Joey would get what was coming to him soon.

* * *

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Frost was sitting and chatting to another third year girl called Anna, who he didn't really know very well. They'd been having classes together for the past two years, but hadn't ever exchanged more than a few words. Frost, in all honesty, had assumed she was stuck up and looked down on him. But she'd promptly sat next to him and asked him how his summer was, seemingly out of the blue.  
He'd made a lame joke in response, 'So dull I almost forgot the magical world existed.'  
She'd asked if he was Muggle-born, and he'd told her the story of his parents' early divorce. He had then learned she was also a half-blood, and they'd been having quite an interesting conversation ever since. Frost was pleasantly surprised at the lack of awkwardness. Usually, he'd be looking for ways out by now, but they were deep in conversation as though they'd known each other for years.  
Frost was looking at her with new eyes, and was just in the process of subtly estimating how long her eyelashes were when they were interrupted by the seventh year prefect Susie Chang.

'Hey guys,' she said a little breathlessly, as she always seemed to sound. 'Anna, uh, we've, I mean, the prefects, have been told that we're expecting a third year transfer student; Maureen Isles. She's with the first years at the moment, and she'll be getting Sorted whenever they get here. I don't know what she's like, but if she gets Sorted into Ravenclaw, can you like, take her under your wing for a bit? You know, introduce her to some of the other third years, until she finds her crowd?'

'Uh… yeah, I suppose,' Anna agreed reluctantly, looking like there wasn't much she'd rather not do.

'Great!' Susie beamed, completely oblivious to her disdain, and hurried back to her seat.

Frost looked around the Great Hall, and saw prefects from the other houses standing in, or walking down, the aisles, presumably relaying the same message to one of their third years.

'Seriously, she chose me?' Anna wondered to Frost. 'I'm not friendly.'

'You've been friendly to me just now,' Frost pointed out.

'Yeah, well. I thought it was about time I got to know you a little better, Barry,' she shot him a smile that Frost couldn't quite decipher the meaning of.

'Hey, Anna, I can take care of the new chick if she makes Ravenclaw,' Frost offered. 'I know a few of the girls from Chess Club who'll probably fall over themselves at the chance for a new friend.'

Rather than looking thankful, Anna smothered a snort and opted for, 'You know people from Chess Club?'

'Well, uh,' he looked momentarily embarrassed. 'Jane likes chess too, so we go… from time to time…'

A fork was tapped against a glass up at the High Table, commanding silence, and Frost breathed an internal sigh of relief.

'Your attention, if you please,' a pompous looking man by the name of Professor Kravitz stood up. 'Professor Clark has just minutes ago gone to meet the new first year students, and they will be here momentarily. I must request that you all refrain from chitchat from now until the cessation of the Sorting Ceremony. Welcome the newcomers into your ranks warmly. They are a long way from home.'

The moment he resumed his seat, a muted kind of whooshing noise filled the Hall as each and every student shifted position simultaneously to train their eyes on the great oak doors. Faces grew eager as the arrhythmic march of shoes grew steadily louder until a large group of somewhat terrified first years came into view.

Jane looked interestedly at the new bunch. Some of this lot would become Frankie's friends, which meant some of them would be at her house during the holidays. While they were all gaping at the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall, she got a chance to size them up. They were all so tiny! She was sure she had never been that tiny as a first year. They filed past, two or three abreast, nudging each other and pointing up at the scores of floating candles in the bewitched ceiling. Jane finally located Frankie, who had been scanning the sea of maroon-lined hoods for his sister. She gave him a grin and a wave, and it was only when he broke their eye contact to say something to a girl next to him and point back at Jane that she noticed there was somebody far more interesting to watch at this Sorting than her little brother.

The girl was around the same height as Frankie, maybe a fraction taller. Her robes fit her body in ways that Jane had never seen robes do before. Her hair was pulled back in a French plait: a style Jane had never been able, nor really cared, to master. Her own hair was either scraped back in a loose ponytail, or allowed to run wild like the rumoured long black mane of the thestral. She didn't know; she had never witnessed death. In the moment that the girl turned to look at Jane as per Frankie's pointed digit, Jane saw that her face was essentially flawless. In that second, a cascade of judgements flew through her head. In her experience, beautiful people tended to be mean. She would be one of the popular girls, and command a small group of airheads. She'd make the poor kids feel bad about their hand-me-down robes, and get huge packages from home in the owl post every other day. Who knew why she had befriended Frankie. Maybe she thought he could do her homework.

Come to think of it, she'd heard that the McLaggens' oldest kid was coming through this year. Cormac McLaggen, now 33, was doing extremely well in his career with the Ministry, now quite high up in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Jane didn't know much about him, but she'd seen his pretentious face in the newspaper often enough, and he definitely rubbed her the wrong way. This girl with Frankie could easily be his daughter.

Jane expected the gaze on her face to be condescending, and self-important, like Cormac's perpetually did. To look at the bird's nest the wind had crafted from her hair during the carriage ride and scoff. To look at her total lack of makeup or jewellery and think her inferior. But this girl's gaze said none of those things. If anything, she looked curious. She looked… Jane hated the word, but well, _nice_. She looked… was that the hint of a smile? Strangers never smiled at Jane. Strangers usually _avoided_ Jane. She was too surprised to think about whether she should reciprocate. The girl had looked away again before she could blink. She watched her continue towards the Sorting Hat, and found herself oddly mesmerised by the way she carried herself. She didn't look as young as the other first years, but it was hard to judge her age, because she looked as though she had the sophistication of a sixth or seventh year. But surely she must be eleven. Why else would she be with the first years? Jane was slightly alarmed by the next thought that stole through her mind: _Best lookin' eleven year old I ever saw_. Woah, woah, woah. Where did _that_ come from?

This manifested as a small frown on her face, yet the absurdity of her last thought was not sufficient to warrant an eye aversion. She watched how the free part of that golden brown plait bounced slightly in time with the girl's step. How the hood of her robe fell so perfectly over the back of her shoulders. _Come on, Jane_, a voice in her head spoke sarcastically. _Who admires a hood?_ A hand came up to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, and Jane was somewhat in awe of how polished she made such a simple action look. Under the pretence of scratching an itch, Jane brought a hand up to her own hair. A quick assessment by touch gave her enough evidence to warrant a wince – it was not her best hair day. This was weird. Why did she care? She'd never cared what other people thought of her hair before. Especially not Cormac "Worship Me" McLaggan's probable offspring. Who the hell _was_ this person? She made Jane feel unsure of herself without having even _spoken_ to her.

The first years had all gathered at the front of the Great Hall now, and Professor Clark stood before them unrolling a piece of parchment. 'When I call your name,' she reminded them, making her way towards the Sorting Hat, 'you will sit on this stool and have the Hat placed on your head. It will announce your House and you may join the appropriate table. But first, of course, the Sorting Song.'

To the surprise of the newcomers, and the anticipatory delight of the rest of the school, a fold in the material of the Sorting Hat opened up to the reveal a wide mouth, and the Hat began to sing!

_I'm brown and slightly dusty  
Don't let that put you off  
Just let me see your thoughts  
At worst, you'll get a mild cough_

_I know that some of you are scared  
But you've no need to worry  
I'm old and wise and very smart  
I'll Sort you in a flurry_

_There's no one better for this job  
The founders all agreed  
Godric thought I'd do them proud  
They cast a spell on me_

_I sit on shelves and gather dust  
All throughout the year  
But this day is my favourite  
So I sing for all to hear_

_Brave Gryffindor, smart Ravenclaw  
Good Hufflepuff makes three  
And cunning Slytherin of course  
Built the school today you see_

_But don't forget that while I Sort  
You are not enemies  
Here at Hogwarts School of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_I Sort you based on talent  
But of course that doesn't mean  
That you won't find your best friend yet  
In a tie of silver green_

_Even if your own tie  
Is coloured red and gold  
Or yellow black, or bronze and blue  
It's smart and good and bold_

_To leap across the House lines  
Blur them just a little  
You'll agree, I hope, the logic of  
Segregation is quite brittle_

_Show compassion for each other  
And to yourself be true  
Heed my words, enjoy your year  
The Sorting now is due!_

The Great Hall erupted into applause as the Hat grew silent. Professor Clark smiled at the awed faces of the first years. The Sorting Hat's annual song was always useful for dissolving some of the tension.

'Amalie Appleton,' was called first as the appreciative clapping and whistling died down. After a short deliberation, the Hat announced, 'Hufflepuff!' to the Great Hall.

A few rogue jeers from the Slytherin table could just be made out, but the Hufflepuff table did a very good job of drowning them out with applause and cheering. Professor Clark removed the Hat and Amalie stepped off the stool to join her Housemates.

Casto Archer was called and swiftly Sorted into Ravenclaw. The olive skinned boy with an enormous mop of dark brown curly hair gave a grin and headed off towards his table.

Meloria Armitage was also deemed to be a Ravenclaw, after much deliberation.

Jane snorted at Dorit Avery's name, as a very sullen looking girl approached the stool. The Hat was silent for a long time, and Jane found herself growing incredibly bored. She stared off into a far corner of the Great Hall's ceiling, trying to guess the name of that girl Frankie was with. Cormac's kid was Elva, or Keeva, or something. But… Jane wasn't sure. She looked more like an Astra. Or a Bianca. Or hell, she even looked girly enough to be called something like Elladora, which kind of made Jane want to vomit a little. Still… names weren't always reflective of a personality. Jane's middle name was proof enough of that.

'Slytherin!' the Hat finally cried, and the table in green went wild for their first addition.

Rohan Avery, who could only be Dorit's twin brother, followed her to the Slytherin table twenty seconds later.

Marcus Becker was made a Gryffindor, and Jane joined her House in cheering and whistling, as the small boy with an enormous smile made his way towards them.

The ceremony seemed painfully slow this evening. Jane drifted in and out of attentiveness, and she wasn't alone, as the tables steadily lost gusto. Lucas Bilton made Slytherin. Theresa Bridges made Slytherin. Ruby Burke made Ravenclaw, as did Chloe Cameron. They were only up to C. Jane's eyelids started to droop; she needed food and an enormous goblet of cranberry juice.

Shane Finnegan apparently got Gryffindor, because hands were suddenly thrown together all around her, startling her out of her stupor. Monotony wasted no time in reeling her back in though, because Jane barely registered Professor Clark calling for Maura Isles a few letters later. It was only by chance that she looked up and saw that girl just having the hat placed on her head.

'Hey, Crowe, what letter're we up to?' Jane nudged her neighbour.

'I,' he yawned. 'She's Isles or something.'

Isles. Not Cormac McLaggan's daughter, then. Jane perked up with sudden interest, still oddly captivated by the stranger.

* * *

It was certainly different, Maura thought, to be sat down facing the entire school, than to walk between the dining tables. It was also pleasing to have a last name that didn't fall at the beginning of the alphabet, since it meant she would be watched less intently. As a whole, the school seemed to be losing interest in the ceremony. She crossed her legs at the ankles, and demurely folded her hands over her grey pleated skirt as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head.

'Maura Isles,' the Hat greeted in its even, analysing tone. 'Transferred from Boston, eh? Don't see many of you,'

'I don't imagine you would,' Maura thought back to the Hat. 'International travel, even for the magical community, is a daunting task, and when most magical educational programmes are delivered at boarding schools, adolescent wards do not present as a problem for most families, so th-'

'You experience deep thoughts,' the Hat cut in. 'On a level that many students fail to achieve throughout all their time here. You think in a way that is foreign to most, which has made you try to ignore that some of your basic needs have not been met.'

'I suppose you mean my lack of friends,' Maura thought.

'Friends, yes, amongst other things. You are not shallow, or weak for wanting a friend, Maura. You are good, and would not be out of place in Hufflepuff. But they will not challenge your character in the way that it needs to be challenged.'

'What kind of challenge?'

'It will need to be analysed, by a well-trained mind,' the Hat continued, ignoring her. 'You will need courage, and I see you have plenty of that. But the kind of bravery you are used to is less from fear and more from allowing your academic pursuits to outweigh the temptations you share with those who are accustomed to experiencing common thought. I will send you on a path that might lead, eventually, to admiration.

'RAVENCLAW,' the Hat bellowed, and Maura felt it lifted from her head. A challenge? What did that mean? The Hat had been incredibly cryptic. She pondered this as she made her way to the clapping table of blue.

* * *

As Elladora Isles – Jane stifled a snort at the thought – went to join the Ravenclaws, Jane found herself strangely disappointed that she hadn't made Gryffindor. She had kind of wanted an excuse to talk to her. _What is going on with me tonight? _she wondered. _Maybe this is what happens when I'm bordering on starving._

Alexei Ivanac was called, and Jane thought back to what the Hat had said to her on this day two years previous. She still hadn't figured out what on earth it was talking about.

'_Jane Rizzoli,' a voice in her head greeted. _

'_Woah!' she thought, suddenly startled. 'Nobody said anything about the Hat talking to you. Oh, crap, I hope it doesn't know my mi-'_

'_Yes, I know your middle name is Clementine,' the Hat cut in, somewhat amused. 'You have a strong mind, Jane, and you are one of the easier ones to place.'_

'_Better not be Hufflepuff,' she grumbled. 'I hate yellow.'_

'_Not Hufflepuff, no. I sense you are loyal, and fiercely so, but only to a select few. I will caution you now, Jane, that one day you will need courage that is not of a conventional sort. You are subconsciously fighting a battle within yourself at this moment. When it comes closer to the surface, and it will, remember I put you in this House for a reason. Use the skills you naturally possess, that your founder prized above all else._

'_GRYFFINDOR!'_

She hadn't confided in anyone what the Sorting Hat had said to her. She was worried that this supposed battle going on in the deep recesses of her brain might be painfully obvious to everyone else, and they would be embarrassed to tell her. The Hat reckoned it would come to the surface one day. Apparently that day was not yet upon her. She stifled a yawn, and resolved to count her belly rumbles to pass the time. She had reached fourteen by the time Frankie was called.

Poor kid. He'd been standing almost as long as she'd been sitting, and she was pretty sure she saw his hands shaking a little. She saw him fleetingly try to search her out in the crowd, before the Hat was placed on his head and fell forward over his eyes.

* * *

'Francesco Rizzoli,' came that calm, calculating tone.

'Oh,' Frankie thought, surprised. 'Hello, uh… Sorting Hat.'

'I recall Sorting your sister. And I see you will be equally easy to place.'

'Gryffindor!' Frankie thought, joy spreading quickly through his system.

'Gryffindor? No, no, I'm afraid not. You are brave, though not remarkably so, and I see you crave the House of the Lion chiefly to impress and join your sister. Similarly, you seek to avoid Hufflepuff because you have heard tales of ridicule from outside these walls. Helga was pleased to take those whose major attributes did not align well with ambition, bravery, or intelligence, that is true. But you are not "the rest", Francesco. You are just, and good, and loyal; overwhelmingly so. I place you first and foremost with the Badger. A first choice, and not for lack of a better fit. You will learn to be proud of your colours, sooner than you think.

'HUFFLEPUFF!'

Frankie stepped off the stool with a look on his face that was somewhere between bemusement and forlornness, feeling a little as though he had asked for a new racing broom for Christmas, and been gifted a garden gnome instead. Now halfway through the letter R, the Hufflepuff table was still applauding their new additions with more enthusiasm than any other House. Frankie plopped down on a vacant space on the bench, and trained his eyes to the now much smaller group gathered at the Hat. He wasn't really listening as a conventionally handsome boy with a wide grin by the name of Dennis Rockmond was Sorted into Slytherin. He was more preoccupied wondering if Jane was going to tease him, or if Frost had only been placating him when he said Hufflepuffs didn't cop it so much inside the castle. Seven years he now had to spend in canary yellow. All because an ancient Hat thought he wasn't brave enough. _That's not why you made Hufflepuff, _his brain reminded him. _The Hat told you why; you're a good person. Don't be an idiot. The other kids in your House look really decent. And look on the bright side: at least it's not Slytherin._

So he sat there with the others, trying to be cheerful, and stifling in his robes as the remainder of his year were allocated a House.

Heidi Rodman… Benjamin Rush… Jasmine Shahi… Evangelina Snow… Athena Sulsar… Kirsten Tambini… Matthias Taunt… Kallon Tyne… Leyson van der Grinten… Elliott Woodbridge… Tierra Wool… Armado Yaxley…

These were the few names of many that stood out to Frankie as his disappointment slowly gave way to hunger and impatience. Jane had said the feasts at Hogwarts were eight times better than Ma's best Christmas dinner, and remembering this fact, his mouth began to water. He saw another Hufflepuff newbie gazing longingly at his empty plate, and gave a friendly grin. It wouldn't be long now.

* * *

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Frost whispered as loudly as he dared in the direction of the newcomers. 'Hey! Which one of you is the transfer student. Maureen?'

'It's Maura,' came an American accent, sounding slightly affronted.

'Okay, well, we've been… _I've_ been asked,' Frost corrected in the wake of Anna's glare, 'to get you acquainted with some other third years. So if you want to move up a few places in a bit, I can talk you through the Hogwarts social system while we eat. Which should be pretty soon.'

Pretty soon indeed. The last kid Zabini had just got off the stool, and Professor Clark was making her way back to the High Table. The headmaster, Professor Cavanaugh, stood up to make his welcome address.

'A very warm welcome to you all: returning students, new students, staff… ghosts,' he nodded his head in the direction of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. 'I will make this short, because I know the evening has been long, and your bellies are empty. Before we eat, however, I wish to inform you that Healer Pike has left his position as overseer of the Hospital Wing. I trust you will join me in welcoming our new Healer, Madame Hope Martin, who will be taking over the role.'

Genuine enthusiastic applause followed, less out of respect for the new Healer, and more out of thankfulness that the dreaded Pike had gone for good.

'First years be aware that the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds, and the Black Lake is to be ventured into only at your own risk. Our caretaker, Mr Stanley, has added screaming yo-yos to the list of forbidden items. Professor Korsak asks that if you must let off Whack Trance Whammy Rockets, please refrain from doing so from the Owlery Tower, as the birds grew very distressed the last school year from this activity. And Professor Longbottom has forbidden the use of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and its variants from anywhere near the Herbology greenhouses, as it will interfere with the sleep-wake cycles of the plants. Professors?' he turned back to his staff. 'Any further notices? No? Students, I trust your summer vacations have been refreshing, and you are ready to tackle the forthcoming academic challenges that this year will bring. I trust also that your appetites have been sufficiently whetted during our ceremonials. Without further ado,' he surveyed the Hall. 'Let the feast begin!'


	4. Chapter 4

Jane chuckled to herself as she put on her pyjamas, recalling the events of the evening. She loved watching the first years' astonished faces as the long, barren oak tables became laden with food and drink in the blink of an eye. The new Gryffindors' nerves had been quickly replaced with relief and gnawing hunger after the Sorting, and their next big dilemma suddenly became choosing what to eat first.

Jane had found her table space occupied by an enormous basket of bread, a tureen of pumpkin soup, and a cottage pie. She wasn't new to this, and didn't bother wasting time gaping at all the choices. She knew what she wanted, and quickly scanned the table. The cannoli was right in front of Joey Grant, and she knew he'd take all of them, just to spite her. Now was the time for action! Out came her wand, and 'Accio cannoli!' was heard, uttered at lightning speed. An entire summer was a long time to go without practicing magic, and the spell didn't go as smoothly as she'd hoped. Instead of two or three of the pastry desserts coming to greet her, the whole plate had risen off the table, and come wobbling through the air. As it got closer, it started to teeter dangerously, and a few cannoli went rolling off onto the table. One landed in the bread basket, and a couple more threatened to join the soup when the plate flipped over the other way without warning, most of its contents falling into her neighbour Crowe's lap.

Those students local to the incident went suddenly silent, and Crowe seemed frozen, staring into his dessert filled lap. Jane was frozen too, a look of amusement crossed with guilt plastered over her face, waiting for his reaction. He looked up at her slowly, his robes smattered with ricotta, and dusted with powdered sugar. 'Jane,' he said, his voice dangerously calm. 'There is cannoli all over my uniform.'

'…Yup,' Jane acknowledged seriously. They continued staring at each other, and maintained eye contact for what must have been at least seven seconds, before a single snort escaped from Jane. She quickly put a hand over her mouth in an attempt to look apologetic, but the damage was done. Those around them started to giggle, then a few open chuckles broke through, and suddenly there were about six kids roaring with laughter around them. 'Can I trouble you to pass the cannoli, Darren?' she asked innocently.

'God damn it, Rizzoli!' he finally said, wiping a ricotta-covered hand down the side of her face and starting to laugh with her. 'How many d'you want?' he indicated his lap.

'Uh, three, please,' she'd grinned, picking up a decanter and holding it poised over his goblet. 'Cranberry juice?'

* * *

She'd had a shower after climbing the hundred staircases (or at least, it felt like it) to Gryffindor Tower, and now was preparing for bed. Her trunk and her racing broom had been brought up to the dormitories, and she tossed her soiled robe in the washing basket to have the ricotta splatters laundered off it. Padding barefoot around the room in cotton boxer shorts and a Holyhead Harpies Quidditch t-shirt, she wondered how Frankie was getting on. They weren't permitted to mingle between tables during formal events like the Start of Term Feast, and the Great Hall had been a circus when it had ended. Prefects were trying to round up the first years to show them the route to the common room and tired, bloated students were pushing through the crowd to try and get to bed. There was the usual competition for sinks and showers and bathroom cubicles. A day of preliminary classes was lined up for the morning, and then the next day the real work would begin. She resolved to catch up with Frankie at breakfast, and congratulate him on making Hufflepuff. She was genuinely pleased for him, though she knew he'd wanted Gryffindor badly. Combined classes with the Hufflepuffs were always her favourite. The Ravenclaws inadvertently made you feel stupid no matter how much you studied, and the Slytherins were too competitive. She was happy her little brother was one of the good guys. She'd write a letter to their parents in the morning, and show Frankie where the owlery was. For now though, she thought, as she slid into the crisp new sheets of her four poster bed and pulled the drapes, all she wanted to do was sleep. She was somewhat surprised to find the image of a flawless French plait tumble through her mind as she succumbed to pleasant exhaustion, though she would not remember having that thought by the time daylight swung round again.

* * *

Maura, second guessing if this was against her better judgement, had followed Frost and Anna as they led the way to Ravenclaw Tower after the feast, instead of joining the group of first years and getting a proper guided tour by the prefects. Frost and Anna had left the Great Hall with the hordes of other students. They'd climbed a couple of staircases – one had moved – and then ducked into an empty corridor on the second floor.

'Our common room is in Ravenclaw Tower. We're just taking a short cut,' Frost informed her.

After a few turns the hubbub of students on the main staircases had faded to silence, and they reached the end of an eerily deserted corridor. It seemed like the only way to go forward was to climb a narrow flight of steps on the right. Frost and Anna turned to the left though, and lifted the corner of a tapestry. It looked as though the tapestry shielded a gaping black hole, but as Maura's eyes adjusted, she saw it was an incredibly steep flight of steps, carved very roughly into the stonework.

'_Lumos maxima_,' Anna muttered as she stepped into the cavity, illuminating the stairwell. Frost and Maura quickly followed suit.

All three had started to pant by the time they had scaled the steps, and were grateful for the comparatively flat passage that veered off to the west. After two minutes or so, the passage came to an abrupt halt. Anna, who was leading them as they walked in single file, pushed on the wall, which turned out to not be a wall at all, but the back of a painting. They stepped out of the passage immediately onto another flight of stairs, and Maura looked around her with her mouth agape. They were in a large, brightly lit, stone cylinder, around the inner perimeter of which was an elaborate spiral staircase. Maura looked over the bannister; they were about a third of the way up already. Students with blue hoods were at various stages of scaling the staircase, most in groups of twos or threes.

'Is this… Ravenclaw Tower?'

'Mhmm,' Anna nodded. 'It's a bit of a hike, but you'll get used to it as the year goes on.'

'Is that you, Barold?' an older voice sounded behind them that Maura definitely didn't recognise.

Frost spun around. 'Oh! Hey, Ignatia!' he greeted. 'I thought you were asleep.'

'I was,' the woman in the painting pursed her lips, though in obviously good humour. 'You woke me when you came through.'

'Yeah… sorry 'bout that,' Frost rubbed the back of his neck and looked sheepish. We just finished the Feast, and the main staircases are packed. Thought we'd take a shortcut.'

'Tell me, Barold,' the woman adjusted the purple cloak around her shoulders and peered at him. 'Has your mother had your fireplace connected to the Floo Network yet?'

'Not really,' Frost shook his head sadly. 'We had it connected for a few days in August, on a temporary basis, so that I could get to Diagon Alley for my school things. Mum came with me the first time, but… well, she threw up. A lot. Gets bad motion sickness, y'know? She's refused to have it connected ever again.'

'Oh, that is awfully regrettable. Keep at her, she'll come round to the right way of thinking eventually! Oh, but who's your new friend?' she asked, directing her gaze at Maura.

'This is Maura Isles. She's just moved here from Boston,' Frost introduced her. 'Maura, this is Ignatia Wildsmith. She invented fl-'

'Floo powder,' Maura nodded. 'I know. You were a student here in the late 1230s and early 1240s, is that right?'

'Yes, that _is_ right,' Ignatia looked very impressed. 'Why do you know that?'

'My father is a Healer, specialising in Plant Poisoning,' Maura explained. 'He's impressed upon me the importance of your contributions to Herbology for quite some time.'

'Oh, marvellous! I trust _you_ are connected to the Floo Network, then?'

'Yes, ma'am,' Maura smiled.

'Oh, come _on_!' Anna moaned, taking a few steps up. 'Why did we even bother taking that shortcut if you're going to spend all the time we saved talking to a _picture_?'

'Gotta go,' Frost grinned.

'Yes, yes, off you go. I'm sure it's been a tiresome day, with the train and all. A pleasure meeting you, Miss Isles.'

Maura smiled politely, before hurrying off after Frost and Anna. As they reached the top of the stairs and entered a corridor, they found a small group of second years gathered around a door. The door did not appear to have a knob or a keyhole; only a bronze knocker fashioned in the shape of an eagle, and Maura wondered what they were waiting for.

'We don't know the answer,' a redheaded boy informed them as they approached.

'What's the question?' Frost asked.

The knocker spoke up, startling Maura. 'Why is there something, rather than nothing?'

'Aw geez,' Frost cast his eyes to the ceiling. 'I'm too out of practice. Why so philosophical on the first day back?'

'There's always something,' Anna cut in, speaking loudly to the knocker. 'Having nothing is still something, in the same way that you might consider atheism a religion. The concept of nothing is something, and is categorised as such. There is something because nothing cannot exist.'

'Well reasoned,' the knocker spoke, and the door swung open.

'Nice,' Frost acknowledged as the second years hurried ahead of them. 'Maura, welcome to the Ravenclaw common room.'

'I have to answer a question like that every time I want to come here?' Maura asked, surprised. 'I thought we'd have a password?'

'The other houses do. Or at least, Gryffindor does. Their common room's on the seventh floor, by the main stairs.'

'How do you know that?' Maura asked, surprised. 'I thought it was forbidden to reveal the location of your common room to students of other houses?'

'You're not supposed to,' Frost agreed. 'But my friend Jane's a Gryffindor, and, well, you know. Friends share things. I haven't been in,' he added quickly. 'I've just met her outside a few times.'

'That wouldn't be Jane Rizzoli, would it?' Maura's interest suddenly spiked.

'Yeah,' he said, surprised. 'How do _you_ know Jane?'

'Oh, I don't. I just know _of_ her. I met her younger brother earlier this evening.'

'Oh, you met Frankie? Nice kid. Anyway,' Frost pointed to a door behind a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw. 'Your dorm's through there. You'll be in the same room as Anna, and they'll have brought your stuff up already. I'm pretty shattered, so I'm going to go grab some shuteye, but I'll catch you at breakfast tomorrow?'

'Thank you,' Maura smiled, trying to take it all in, as Frost went off to bed. Anna saw Maura looking around the room in wonder, and decided that she wasn't sticking around to wait for her, either. Maura barely noticed her stalking off, as she looked up at the sprinkling of stars on the domed ceiling, and then to the arched windows, hung with blue and bronze silks. The room was large and circular, which was consistent, Maura thought, with being in the upper reaches of a tower. The lush looking carpet underfoot was midnight blue, and while the room as a whole was not as entirely polished-looking as her common room at Fort Acton had been, it definitely looked more welcoming. She went to the window to try and make out the view, but it was too dark. A stream of students suddenly came through, led by a tall boy with very short hair, and an Asian girl wearing glasses. The group halted in the centre of the common room, and Maura recognised a few of them as first years from her ceremony.

'And this is the Ravenclaw common room,' the male prefect waved his hand around in the air. 'It's used as more of a mingling space than a study space, so I recommend utilising the library when concentration is paramount. If you fail to answer the eagle's question, I'm afraid you'll have to stay and wait in the corridor for another Ravenclaw to come along, since the question won't change until a satisfactory answer is received.'

'All of our meals are served in the Great Hall, where we just had the Feast and the Sorting Ceremony,' the female prefect continued. 'Breakfast is served from 7am. You are expected to be in uniform, though because it is an informal meal, you are permitted to intermingle with students from the other Houses. Tomorrow the entire school will have a day of preliminary classes. This is especially important for all of you, since you will meet your professors and locate your classrooms. For this year and next year, you will have all your lessons together, and it is not uncommon for those lessons to be combined with another House.'

'Your dormitories are through there,' the prefect pointed to the door Frost and Anna had disappeared through moments ago. 'Boys are up the stairs to the left, and girls, the stairs to your right.'

'Where's all our stuff from the train?' a girl Maura remembered as Chloe Cameron spoke up.

'Waiting for you,' the prefect answered. 'Go and get settled in. We'll wait around for ten minutes or so down here in case you have questions.'

Maura followed the group in through the door by the statue, and found herself in a bright passage. A flight of long steps veered off to the left, and another to the right. Here the sexes segregated, and Maura followed the girls to the right. The first years quickly located their dormitory and exited from the main stairway, leaving Maura quite alone. She could hear giggling and muffled banging as drawers were opened and trunk lids were dropped closed, and she suddenly felt very isolated in this lonely passage. She passed an archway that read 'Second Year Girls', and kept going, knowing the room she was after must be next.

As she neared the doorway to her dormitory, she heard a voice from within ask: 'Why's there an extra bed in here?'

'New transfer student,' a voice she recognised as Anna's answered. 'Her name's Maura, she's a bit weird. Asked me if Hogwarts took precautions against microbial growth in the kitchen, and wouldn't touch the finger food.'

Maura's heart sunk as she stood frozen outside the doorway. The spring rolls and the roasted nut assortments _had_ looked tasty, but what about _Chromobacterium violaceum_? Most witches and wizards didn't have a clue about microbiology. Flesh eating bacteria weren't something to take chances with. She took a steadying breath and stepped through the doorway.

'-plum pudding was a-mazing… oh! Speak of the devil,' a girl with long black hair spoke from her position on her bed. She was lying topsy-turvy, with her bare legs propped up on her pillows, and her thick hair spread out in a fan around her head. Her trunk was only half unpacked, and while she was wearing pyjama shorts, her school blouse, tie, and grey knit sweater still adorned her top half. 'We were just asking after you,' her eyes rolled back as far as possible to try and meet Maura's gaze. 'Anna says you're called Maura, is that right?'

'Yes, that's correct,' Maura inclined her head and offered the hint of a smile.

'You're over there,' the dark haired girl pointed somewhat inaccurately over the end of her bed. 'I'm Runa. That's Avalon, Cerys, Elowyn, you know Anna, Sera's in the bathroom, and that's Illy. Arwen and Viv are still on their way. The other half of the third year girls are through there, but I reckon that's probably enough names for now.'

'Thank you, it's nice to meet you all,' Maura made her way across the room to investigate her space. Her heartbeat quickened considerably as she realised immediately something was missing. Or rather, some_one_. She lifted the lid of her trunk in vain, and then looked under her bed in sudden desperation. Her clothing was here, her textbooks were here, her pewter cauldron and brass scales and crystal phials were here. Bass was not.

'What are you looking for?' one of the girls asked, scorn lacing her voice.

'Have any of you seen an African spurred tortoise? He's in a large crate made of wiggentree?'

'What's a tortoise?' another girl asked.

The seventh year prefect suddenly appeared in the doorway. 'Is there a Maura Isles in here?' she asked. 'Professor Korsak wants to see you in the common room.'

'Oooohhhh,' several of the girls teased obligatorily as the colour drained from Maura's face.

'He said something about pet regulations?'

Runa gave a single laugh of amusement as Maura dashed from the room without a word.

* * *

The professor stood in the very centre of the common room. He wore robes of chocolate brown, and had a white goatee. He looked stern, but as Maura got closer she saw he had kind eyes. On the ground at his feet was a familiar crate, which Maura was almost positive contained her beloved Bass.

'Maura,' the teacher spoke. 'You're a transfer student, I understand? My name is Professor Korsak, I teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, and I am Head of Gryffindor House. This guy was found on the train, and nearly confiscated by Mr Stanley earlier this evening. I stepped in just in time, and said he belonged to me. But I see, in fact, he belongs to you. Are you aware that this creature is not on the approved animals list, sent out to you with your school requirements in July?'

'Yes, Sir,' Maura spoke to the floor, unable to lie.

'I was raised with one foot in the Muggle world,' Korsak volunteered. 'But I've never encountered this creature before. Our Care of Magical Creatures professor has examined it, and he's assured me it's not magical.'

'No,' Maura confirmed. 'He's an African spurred tortoise. His name is Bass. And he's quite harmless.'

'Why bring him to Hogwarts?'

'I was afraid my parents would neglect him. He's my responsibility, and he requires closer monitoring than I believe they're capable of.'

Korsak gave a series of quiet chuckles. This kid was definitely sure of herself. 'What kind of environment does er, Bass here need?'

'He thrives in a warm climate, though he does need some moisture. Semiarid grasslands are best, and he prefers things to be quiet. I'll admit a dormitory of teenage girls is far from ideal, but my only other option was risking him dying of neglect and starvation. I'm sorry I didn't garner approval for his arrival,' Maura's voice seemed to shrink. 'I was afraid his presence here would be rejected.'

'Well, Maura, I'm sympathetic to your case. I have a squib friend who's a veterinarian. A Healer for Muggle pets, you know? I'll have her come here and examine Bass. If she gives the all-clear, I'll make Bass a space in my office, and you can visit him whenever you need. How's that?'

'Thank you, Professor,' Maura gushed at the unexpected gesture. She bent down to open Bass' crate and found he had retreated into his shell. 'Hear that, Bass? Once you pass your vet check, you're going to live in Professor Korsak's office. I'll visit you often, I promise.'

'Wiggentree wood is prized for its magical properties against dark magic,' Korsak indicated the crate approvingly. 'Though something tells me you knew that already. I'll send an owl to the veterinarian in the morning, and let you know the verdict when the exam is complete. I hope you're settling in alright?'

On the contrary, Maura was feeling decidedly unsettled. She didn't know the main route back to the Great Hall, she sensed Frost had only accompanied her this evening out of a sense of obligation, and her roommates were already discussing her more unusual traits out of supposed earshot. What's more, the relationships between all the third year girls in her dormitory seemed to be well established, and she felt well and truly like an outsider. And yet, she couldn't tell a lie to the professor. 'I expect I will feel more at home here in the weeks to come.'

That was true, even if this place turned out to be awful. She didn't very much like being with her parents. At least here, even if most of the attention directed at her came in the form of taunting, she would have confirmation she existed.

Korsak nodded, and uttered '_Locomotor crate'_. He bid Maura good evening, and with a slight swish of his robe, he turned to retreat towards the spiral staircase.

When Maura returned to her dormitory, she found several of the four poster beds had their drapes pulled, and the dark haired girl called Runa was kneeling at her trunk wearing only her pyjama shorts and a lacy bra. 'I can't find my tank top,' she looked up as Maura walked in. 'I think my bloody sister's nicked it. Any luck with the turtle?' she asked, as she continued to rummage through her trunk.

'Tortoise,' Maura corrected automatically. 'And yes, Professor Korsak has Bass in his possession. I'm incredibly relieved. Do you have a pet here?'

'No, but three or four of the girls in here have owls, and Viv's got a massive silver tabby. I hope you're not allergic?'

'No,' Maura shook her head. 'Would you like to borrow something to sleep in?'

'Yeah, actually, that'd be great,' Runa gave up on her trunk and stood. 'Have you got something light? I think we're going to roast up here tonight.'

Maura crossed the room and knelt at her own trunk, lifting the lid to reveal stacks of perfectly folded clothing. She removed a navy blue item and unfolded it to show Runa it was a tank top. It was a few years old, but had not been subjected to much use. The front was inked with the silhouetted profile of the Dutch author and musician J. C. M. van Riemsdijk, and the date 2009 was printed next to it.

'Will this do? It's gauze fabric with a 97% organic cotton blend. Very breathable.'

'Yeah, that's great,' Runa took the top with a laugh. 'Hey, you like van Riemsdijk? Right on, girl!'

'You _know_ van Riemsdijk?' Maura asked, surprised.

'Yeah, my mum plays his stuff all the time. I think I was exposed to it in the womb,' she turned her palms to the ceiling. 'Didn't have a say in the matter.'

'My mother took me to a tribute show in New York. It was wonderful!'

'Woah, jealous!' Runa seemed genuinely interested. 'Say, can you tell me about it tomorrow? I'm about ready to hit the sack.'

'…Hit the sack?' Maura asked hesitantly.

'Yeah, uh… go to sleep?' Runa tried again. 'Do they not have that saying in North America?'

'I'm not sure,' Maura answered truthfully. 'But yes, I can tell you about it in the morning.'

'Cool,' Runa climbed onto her bed and shut the drapes. A few seconds later a bra was tossed out in the direction of Runa's trunk.

'That happens a lot, you'll get used it,' another girl informed Maura as she got into bed herself. 'You haven't seen Moon, have you? My tabby cat,' she clarified at Maura's questioning face. 'He's huge, you can't miss him.'

This must be Viv. Maura shook her head. 'Sorry.'

'He must be off visiting. One of the fifth year boys has a toad, and he loves chasing it. Keep me posted?'

Maura was suddenly very glad that Bass would be having a private living space, and nodded. She turned finally to her own bed, where she needlessly smoothed a hand over the wrinkleless sky blue eiderdown. Runa had been right; it was very hot in here. She folded the eiderdown back to a narrow strip at the foot of the bed and closed the drapes. She changed into her silk pyjamas while sitting atop her sheets, before placing her folded robes and uniform neatly on top of her trunk and slipping into bed.

Sleep came a lot easier than she'd anticipated on this first night. The drapes around her four poster made her feel irrationally safe, and she grew drowsy listening to the sounds of the last few girls preparing for sleep. She lay and thought involuntarily about the eyefuls of Runa's ample cleavage she had been granted not ten minutes ago, and her trail of thought effortlessly went to the brief glimpse she'd had of Jane Rizzoli prior to the Sorting Ceremony. She had stared at Jane for no more than three seconds, and made eye contact for no more than two. Jane was… well, stunning. In a wonderful, wild kind of way that Maura was quite taken with. She herself had been raised to be quite prim and proper, though she had noticed more recently that the things she was supposed to find prim, she found alluring. Like Jane's unruly mane of curls, and the casual way she'd sat at the Gryffindor table when Maura had passed: leaned back with one elbow on its surface to steady herself. Maura liked Jane's dark eyebrows and high cheekbones, and that slight calculating look on her face she had glimpsed right before she'd averted her gaze. This captivation with the facial feature combinations of certain females had been happening more frequently in the last year or two. Maura had been uncharacteristically avoiding confronting what they might mean. Tonight was not about to change that, but she let her mind wander uninhibited, and fell asleep creating clothing combinations that Jane Rizzoli might choose to wear when she was out of uniform.


End file.
